Weird Japanese Things are like Mecha Robot Food for the Soul

This photo makes me hungry.

I love anime. I love Asian horror movies.  And I especially just love random things that make me say “Because… Japan”. I mean, those awesome little people on those little islands probably have a lot of radiation in their brains to come up with the stuff they do. Without them, half of my hobbies would be gone. So thank you Japanese people, thank you for helping geeking up the interwebs and my free time.

There’s so many things that you can find just sitting in the weird part of the internet… and it’s somehow the creation of Japan.

Take this video that I just saw today. What the frack is that? It’s a muthajumpin super large cat. And it only appeared because chewing that gum makes you feel like the meow version of Falcor is toting you around for some reason. That is a load of awesome to brighten anyone’s crappy day.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v8kU8aCVG0Y

And this link. Oh my sweet baby hay-soos. Who would think that Iron Man and Sailor Moon mashup would make so much sense in my brain? I’m an old school Sailor Moon fan, and I’m very much a fan of Robert Downey Jr’s take on the iron man. This. This is art. This is what I try to look at every couple of days when I lose hope in humanity. I don’t need puppies. I need sailor iron man to keep the doctor away.

And the anime version of Doctor Who. This is one of those things that you stumble across that you never knew you were missing in life until you saw it. Granted, out of all of these I’m not sure if the guy who made it was Japanese, but the feel is so very Japanepic.

Last but not least, I love horror and action movies that are really bad… B movies. And I really love Japanese B movies.  And the one near and dear to my heart is Robogeisha.  People I have this on DVD. I know the trailer by heart. It is a masterpiece of wackiness, and if you don’t find this hilarious there is something wrong with you and I’m sorry for your LIFE.

Okay… my bit of randomness is done. Carry on with your regularly scheduled program.

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My Couch is My Boyfriend… Oh God, Either I’m Becoming Really Weird or Pathetic

So, when I come home after work, I throw my bag down and instead of getting out of uniform, I run right to my couch. Of course, that’s where my laptop is and yes, I may have a small internet addiction, but that’s not it. On weekends, Fridays where I don’t go out. I fall asleep on my couch. The Monster Teen has learned not to try to make me go to my room. He just turns off all the lights. I have a pillow and blanket there.

My couch is my inanimate boyfriend. I name him forever more… Hector.

This is not Hector. Hector is more handsome in a solid sage green. And he’s bigger. Bigger is better when it comes to my sofa Hector.

Hector is there for me. We sit comfortably together. He doesn’t tell me I’m fat (even though I’ve lost over 25 pounds in the past 2 months, go me!). Hector doesn’t care if I decide to hang with him in PJs, unbrushed teeth, and my hair a mess with no makeup. Hector is the PERFECT inanimate boyfriend.

He’s not like my bed. Cold and empty because my picky butt still hasn’t found someone I’m willing to share it with, no matter how many online dating sites I join.

Oh god, its depressingly hilarious that I have a closer relationship with a frackin couch than any man right now.

For that reason, I’m going out on a date today with someone who while attractive, may be just trying to see the dimensionthe5th knickers color. But, as much as Hector means to me, this relationship is bad for my mental health!

 

(http://thequeencreative.wordpress.com/2013/06/11/for-the-promptless-s-2-e-5-gezellegheid/comment-page-1/#comment-301)

I Don’t Want to Walk a Mile in Your Shoes, Your Feet Stink

As Shang Tsung from the awesome first Mortal Kombat movie said “Save your pity for the weak!” Best line of one of the greatest Action B-movies ever.

YESSSS!!!!!!

I don’t know if it is because of how I was raised, or my time in the military, or just my personality, but I hate when people feel sorry for themselves. Heck, I hate myself when I get all weepy and depressed. But it seems many people in this day and age think that if they stub a toe, or don’t win an award they should be coddled and given a cookies.

I’m all out of cookies you whiny mustardbustard. I’m on a diet! I drink poop tea! (Some stupid weight loss tea that seems to make my insides liquefy).

Frack you Morpheus! Frack you and your no cookie having butt!

I think it has to do with the mentality that everyone’s a winner from out of the womb. Babies participate in a game, a sport, and everyone is supposed to let the room. If children are playing as a group, EVERY last snotty nosed ankle biter should get a trophy, even little John-boy, who stood there digging in his butt for gold for a few hours. Give that stank brown hand a trophy!

People aren’t honest with their kids. They praise my son being self-sufficient, but gasp when I say I never let him win on a game with me. And that I flat-out answer honestly any question he asks about life. To them, it’s too embarrassing. Why the frack did you have kids? Did you think it was going to be like a Hallmark movie where nothing bad or uncomfortable ever happens? Did you hit your head after pushing your monstrosity out and forget the world we live in?

You are setting up your child to not have realistic expectations, and to get wedgies everyday, you punk.

And then those pinks raise punks to grow up to be… Grown up punks. And they get to a college, and whine about how hard it is. And they expect a degree to be handed to them. And then they get a job, and they whine about how hard THAT is. And why aren’t they running things by now when they have the life and work experience of a gnat?

Or maybe they are just those people who have had a rough hand in life. Dog and every family member dead, a disease that’s worse than Mr. Glass in Unbreakable. Just incredibly poopified life. And I have a little empathy, to a point. But Dear God day in and day out I say hi and you start to list the reasons why you’d be better off dead? I might just hand you a rope and knife. Remember, not ACROSS the wrists.

I’m just saying…

Sorry (not really), I’m just lately fed up with the in person pity parties people like to throw in my face. I’d much rather read about in online. At least on Facebook if you go all F*** My Life crazy, I can click Like. And you can sit and wonder if I’m sharing in, or laughing at your sadness.

Self Created Nicknames of Lameness

So today, I misheard lyrics to a song that my son was singing. I swear that I heard Grilled Cheese Ninja somewhere in there. And decided that it should from now on be my cat’s superhero name. Even cats need superhero names, dontcha know! So if I mention a four-legged she-devil by the name of Grilled Cheese Ninja, I’m talking about my crazy cat.

And it’s cool to make up nicknames for people. I seriously do it all the time. Especially with my students that have weird names. It’s not to offend them, its how I remember. I’m not going to remember a name that has no vowels. I gotta find something to call you where it doesn’t sound like I’m hacking a loogie or cursing in chinese.

What I can’t stand is those that make up their own nicknames. It’s all over the book of face. And usually, I’d say 75 percent of the time, of the ghetto/hood/trailer persuasion.

You know. The people who use Wal-Mart to debut the latest fashions of “Oh, God Killitwithfire” wear.

I’m all for cosplay. I’m not for Walmart-play.

The other 25 percent are the religious ghetto fabulous persuasion. The people have to put bible quotes up on Sunday, even though Saturday they posted pics of themselves in club clothes before they headed out.

These people have learned the interwebs.

And these people seem to have an animal impulse to add their own nicknames to their natural names on Facebook. I don’t know if its genetic, or group mentality, but what do you expect from people who have names that sound like their mother just picked letters out of a hat and then called it a name.

So Boomquisha Jones already will fail at anything above fast food and doing hair in her kitchen, but on top of that she has her FB handle as Boomquisha “ChocolateThighs” Jones. Boomquisha, I know you are 300 pounds and those chocolate thighs may be actually made of chocolate by now. And then there’s Boomquisha’s brother Antwon “Swaggalous” Jones. And in case you think I’m picking on the brown crayon ghettoness, Antwon’s girlfriend is Brytani “ChicksWannaBMe” Sullivan.

Those 3 I’ve actually seen across FB.

And of course, online religious leaders of FB have names like Tonya “2Blessed2BStressed” Williams, and Chris “RealMenPray” Johnson.

Why the fudge bucket do we need a nickname written into our FB identity?! It’s not even a nickname really. It’s the words that the announcer for HBO boxing before you come out into the ring.

I’m almost willing to believe that all the people are passing secret codes to each other. They are part of the government conspiracy of YOLO.

Maker of YOLO. Leader of the conspiracy of stupid.

All I know is, I can’t take seriously anyone that does this. It equates in my head with all manner of foolishness. Like YOLO, and swag, and other pop inspired shenanigans.

Signed,

Dimension “youonlyliveonceinalternatedimensions” the 5th

Oh No, I’m Blinded! Dealing With Monster Teen’s Growing Body

I share this because after telling the story to friends, I realized that maybe other mother do not talk with their sons this way. And plus, in hindsight it is hilarious. But when it was happening I was just frustrated.

So my son is a musician, and plays in the school band. The other night he had a performance, and I found out only the night before that he needed to be dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks. Of course I have to buy this ish short notice!

So after work the next day, I run to the store, estimating my monster teen’s growing size. Pretty much holding things to me and picking a size slightly bigger. It works well for the shirt. For the pants, well, the last size I’d bought him was 32-32. And as a side note, stupid men’s sizes are stupid. Yes, I know they make more sense than a woman’s because you can have a tall skinny dude that needs a tiny waist and all, but it’s too confuzzling for me. So, I just bought his dress slacks in 32-32. I forgot about the one thing my genetics have cursed him with.

My son has a badonkadonk.

This is not a representation of my son. He has a huge butt, but that does not turn him into a monkey.

It is a ridiculously big behind for a male. He’s in denial. He thinks I’m making it up just how like I had him believing for some time that he was a clone after my first of him had an “unfortunate accident.”

But his butt is huge, and when I rushed home, gave him his new clothes to iron and throw on while I changed, I came back out to a visual dilemma.

From behind, his pants looked rather tight. It was showing off just how curvy those back cheeks were.

Me: You gotta go up a size in pants next time.

Monster Teen: Why? They fit.

Me: You look like you are smuggling cantaloupes back there.

Monster Teen: My butt is NOT big Mom!

And then… He turned around and I’m blinded.

Me: Oh no! You can’t go out like that!

MT: What?!

Me: All I see is crotch!

MT: WHAT?!

Me: Your junk is sitting up like a beacon right up front. No one will be able to see anything but that!

You remember in the movie Labyrinth, how we as children were introduced to David Bowie’s package? David Bowie has websites dedicated to his package.

My childhood… if it hadn’t already been sullied, that moment would be now.

 

http://id34111.securedata.net/areaology/area.html

I don’t want my son to have websites. *Shudders*

Monster Teen: What am I…

Me: Can you move it? Push it down the leg of your pants or something. Ugh. Just, just get it out of everyone’s face!

MT: grumble grumble grumble

Me: BIGGER PANTS. And boxer briefs.

If it wasn’t for having to leave out the door at that moment, I would have NEVER let my poor teen go out the door like that. I know he already catches the eye of many a young female. Well the other night he was serving them free teen on a platter with that get-up. Much to my “ew that’s my son” disgust.

How would a man handle this same situation with his son I wonder?

Is that Your HooHah Hair?! Weird Office Living Pet Peeves

Random things irritate me. If you’ve read other posts of mine, you’ve realized that. But today, little things in the office seemed to combine and transform themselves like Voltron into a day of constant irritation. Soooo, onto the list of things that for some reason drive me batty at work:

1. Restroom Light Warriors.

Okay, look, I know we need to practice light conservation and all, but there are 3 stalls in the restroom closest to my office, and students and staff constantly going in and out all throughout the day (not my ninja restroom: see here: http://dimensionthe5th.com/2013/04/10/first-world-female-problems-girls-dont-poop/). About 3 times a week, I walk in and someone has turned off the light. Why does this bother me? Because I’ve watched enough weird and scary movies that I expect to find a dead body. Most likely a student of mine, after I’ve told them why they suck.

2. Over the Shoulder Ninjas.

I used to have a real office, with a door and all at my last office. Now I have a cubicle. And I absolutely HATE people who like to sit there and look over your shoulder for a while before they let you know they are there. It doesn’t matter if I’m doing work, or reading an article on why the Song of Ice and Fire series is sexist. I have deployed multiple times and I may become violent at any time. And since I’m sitting, you may get punch in your twig or hoo-hah. Keep messing with me -_-

3. Bubble breakers.

Seriously, if we are really cool, by all means sit close to me. I still may say that you are in my frackin personal space. But if I don’t know you all that well, why the frack are we within kissing distance of each other?! I mean face on! Turn to the side or something so I don’t feel like I’m getting breath particles. I don’t know where your mouth has been. I’m a smoker, so I know better than to waft my smoky breath right at people. But unless you are brushing after every meal, dude, I don’t need to see your leftover meal on your teeth in 4d.

4. Toilet Shedders.

Oh my god, the many NSFW work photos I went through by typing in pubic hair. WTF was I thinking?

Okay yes, I have a serious issue with restroom everything it seems. But have you ever went into a stall, about to sit down and see secret lady fur atop the seat? *Shudder* I mean, I may trim the lady bush, but any straggler hair goes down the shower drain. Why are the ladies shedding like my cat sheds on my carpet?! And why are you not at least trimming that bad boy between your legs, because that hair is LONG. I mean, are you growing out an afro? Planning to get dreads with beads all dangling? Why are they falling out all over the toilet? Are you balding down there? I really don’t like focusing on other women’s ladies parts, but this is becoming a huge concern for me.

Other than that, I really like my office. The people are really weird just like me. But I swear if this Pubic Conspiracy continues I will take photos and post pics saying “Have You seen the Owner of these curlies? Please come and pick them up in Stall 3.